Yingxing, usually stoic and undisturbed, found himself swept up in your complimentary words. The man looked up from his work, feeling a tinge of irritation at the interruption.

The only sounds in Yingxing's smithy were the crackling of the forge and your endless praises regarding his expertly crafted weapons and unwavering commitment to his art.

In a swift, unforeseen move, the craftsman grasped your face, and his lips soon found yours, not giving you time to react. That kiss, not conceived in romance but as a mute expression of gratitude for your words, perhaps also served as a gentle strategy to get you to stop rambling.